‘Desperate days. Justice nowhere. I fail.’

Eliamma Matthen wrote these words in her diary on November 4, 1938, days after her husband, banker Chalakuzhy Paulose Matthen — co-founder of Travancore National and Quilon Bank — was arrested at his Madras home on October 20, 1938, under an extradition warrant issued by the British Political Agent in the State of Travancore. The warrant was reportedly issued at the request of the Dewan of Travancore, who sought to prosecute Matthen and five other bank directors for “conspiracy to defraud the public” following the failure of the bank earlier that year.

They were held without bail for six months while the jurisdiction of the case was contested. In April 1939, they were extradited to Trivandrum, where they arguably faced a show trial. Matthen was sentenced to eight years of rigorous imprisonment, later reduced to five on appeal. Unlike the other directors, he remained confined in the criminal block until his release in January 1942.

Outside the prison, meanwhile, as Eliamma pursued tireless efforts for his release, the family faced financial difficulties. The burden of the household and care of eight children fell entirely on her.

It was during this period that her diary became both record and refuge, chronicling not just details of the case but also her fears, moments of exhaustion and faith that kept her going. Donated to the Kerala Council for Historical Research with other private papers of Eliamma in 2009 — on the recommendation of late historian KN Panikkar — the writings now form the core of the exhibition Lilies in the Garden of Tomorrow in Mattancherry, Kochi, the very city where Eliamma was baptised.

Curated by Bakul Patki, it is ideated by her great granddaughter-in-law Sarah Chandy, a London-based photographer and journalist, who married Eliamma’s great grandson in 2009. “Her writing was her holding space; it was not begun with an audience in mind but as a practice of attention. As years pass, it becomes clear that she wants this story of resilience shared,” states the artist.

The idea of creating a visual narrative for Eliamma’s story developed in 2024, as Chandy’s photographic practice was beginning to deepen. It was also the natural extension of a process of inquiry into both her own attachment to her in-laws and her teenage daughter’s questions about her Indian ancestry.

“I was aware of the imprisonment of Matthen and those tumultuous years for the family from conversations stretching back two decades. But this project really began with wanting to understand my daughter’s inheritance. At the same time my grandmother-in-law, who was the last of the generation that had a living memory of Eliamma, was dying,” says Chandy.

Carefully leafing through the pages of the diaries, written between May 1938 and April 1942, through Eliamma’s entries Chandy also evokes the ethos of the time. Climbing up the narrow steps of Arrow Gallery in Jew Town, viewers are greeted with archival family photographs, newspaper reports revealing the public unfolding of the case as well as an installation holding envelopes that contained letters Eliamma wrote to Chalakuzhy during his days at the Central Jail of Travancore. The several months of research saw Chandy access archives across the globe, from London to Kolkata, Thiruvananthapuram, Bengaluru, Darjeeling and Chennai, as well record recollections of Eliamma and the case from family members.

While a glass vitrine encases, among others, a fibre chain and cross made by a convict sent to her by Chalakuzhy, at the very core are excerpts from the diary entries on the walls. “She wrote the diary daily as part of a practice of attention and the nature of the entries did change over time. It begins with a lot of religious quotes and simple sketches of the day. But, by the second volume, she makes an active choice to record, with one side of a spread acting as an event page of sorts and the other becoming a religious reflection. She maintains that pattern, cramming information on eventful days into the margins, emotions made visible by handwriting changes, multiple underlinings and blotched ink,” says Chandy. She adds how the diary also becomes a means for her to understand Eliamma better.

As time passed, the once affluent Syrian Christian family also faced mounting financial strain as resources became increasingly scarce. On October 10, 1939, Eliamma writes, “There were about Rs 70 in the safe and I was counting that for this month’s small expenses. It is
all gone!”

The exhibition also features staged photographs of performance work between the artist and family members. Dressed in white is Eliamma’s great granddaughter Premala Matthen. “This exhibition is the result of the collective memory of the wider family, which includes memories held within the body. Here, these acts of relational mapping — posture, proximity and gesture — are made visible alongside family archive and formal public records. I want viewers to become part of my creative process. I don’t want to tell people what to think. I want them to be able to look, listen, feel, cross-reference and arrive at their own understanding,” says Chandy.